


My Kingdom for a Dance with You

by asongforjonsa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drunk Jon, F/M, Ficlet, Flirty Jon, Fluff, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 10:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/pseuds/asongforjonsa
Summary: Jon gets a little too in his cups. Flirting ensues.





	My Kingdom for a Dance with You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [gifset](http://soapieturner.tumblr.com/post/170643407605) by @soapieturner.

Jon gulped another cup of ale as he looked across the Great Hall of Winterfell. He was seated at the head table, of course, with Arya and Gendry and Bran.

He watched in silence as his radiant queen and wife danced with all the lords and ladies of the North. Sansa’s melodious laugh rang through the halls as one lord, then another, took a turn to spin her. He was tired, too tired to dance, as much as he ached to. Early in their marriage, after the war for the dawn, Sansa taught him to dance, laughing much as she was this evening.

Jon had been out riding all day. It was their son Robb’s first hunt, and the seven-year-old woke his parents before dawn, jumping on their bed in excitement. How Sansa had the stamina to be dancing all night after tending to their two youngest all day, and listening to the petitions from the common folk, was beyond him.

Gendry nudged Jon, and poured another cup of ale for him. He’d become quite fond of his brother-in-law, and the two often drank together in the evenings. Gendry would listen to Jon’s concerns regarding the kingdom, and Jon would council him on dealing with his ever-so-stubborn wife.

Before long, the edges of Jon’s eyes felt a bit fuzzy. He hadn’t had this much to drink in a while, and he lamented that a few cups of ale could put him in such a state. Sam came to sit next to him for a short while, chatting about his maester duties. Jon didn’t hear anything his friend said, though, for his eyes were fixed on Sansa.

She was sitting with Gilly for a moment, sharing a cup of mead and taking a break from the dancing. Her eyes met Jon’s as she sipped from the cup, and they shone with happiness. She set the cup down and made her way to the head table, swaying with the music.

Jon stood - well, attempted to stand - to greet her. He wobbled quite a bit, and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. He made it to his feet as Sansa came around the table. He could just see the tops of her breasts as he looked down at her, the swell of them peeking out over the emerald fabric of her gown.

“My lady,” he said, “You are a vision.” He grasped Sansa’s hands and pulled her in close, wrapping an arm around her waist. She giggled and flushed, the pink hue spreading down her luscious chest.

“I wonder if that flush of your skin covers these beautiful teats,” he whispered loudly. “Jon!” Sansa gasped and swatted his arm.

“I wish to take you to the dance floor! My kingdom for a dance with you, beautiful lady.” Sansa burst out laughing, but Jon wondered why they weren’t moving to said dance floor.

“Why do you laugh, my lady? Surely you believe your king would slay any man who dared come between us! I’d slay a thousand dragons to be by your side!”

Gendry and Arya were in fits of laughter, and if Jon had been less in his cups, he would’ve noticed the hall had gone rather still, fixated on this display of their monarchs.

Sansa was still laughing, but stopped as soon as Jon leaned in to growl in her ear, “I’d slay a million to get into your bed.” She shivered, and Jon’s chest swelled with pride.

Sober Jon had always been terrible at flirting, but drunk Jon? Oh, he was brilliant, if he could say so himself. No lady could resist these lines, surely!

“Would it please you to have a king in your bed, my lady?” He whispered loudly. “For this king would surely be proud to claim you.” Sansa could still hear Gendry and Arya laughing, but her eyes were locked on Jon’s.

“What is your name, fair maiden?” Jon reached up to run his hand through her silky hair. “And are you married?”

Sansa frowned slightly and glanced at Sam, who simply shrugged. She cupped his face with both hands, and peered into his very drunk face. “It’s Sansa, your grace. And I am married.”

“NO!” Jon yelped. He stumbled back, and Sam stood to prop him up. He started crying. Crying! She’d seen him cry exactly four times before: when he found out Ned Stark wasn’t his father, and when each of their three children was placed in his arms for the first time.

Sansa looked around the room and groaned internally. Their people did not need to see this display, although most of them were laughing. Arya had stopped laughing, and Sansa gave her that look. Arya nodded. She’d take care of the people, and Sansa would see to her husband.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, my king,” Sansa said quietly. She moved toward Jon, and grasped his arms before dragging him from the hall. She could hear Arya order the music to start again, and sighed with relief. Hopefully the lords and ladies would be too drunk to remember this in the morning.

Jon babbled incoherently as they made their way to their chambers. “Your hair, fair lady, it’s so beautiful!” and “Where are we going, sweet maiden, are we to abscond together?” and “Who is this husband of yours? Do you love him?”

To that last one, Sansa looked back at the husband she was dragging behind her and smirked. “I surely must love him, my king, for I am seeing to him despite his drunken state.”

Jon stopped moving and Sansa groaned loudly. They were so close to their chambers! Once they were inside, they’d be home free.

“Is it me?” Jon grinned. “Am I your husband?” He giggled, and Sansa began dragging him behind her again.

Finally they made it to their chambers, and Sansa shut the door behind them. “You silly, sweet man,” she said softly. Jon stood there dumbly, looking around him like he didn’t recognize the room.

She moved to stand in front of him and ran her fingers through his curls. “You are my husband, you drunken fool,” she murmured. “And I do love you.” She kissed him gently before pushing him towards the bed.

“Are we really husband and wife?” Jon asked with eager eyes as he sat on the bed. “Have we… lain together?”

Now that they were in private, Sansa could laugh as much as she wanted. This was surely the most inebriated she’d ever seen her husband. She bent over, being sure to give him a full view of the tops of her breasts, and whispered in his ear, “Even better, we have three children that we made together.”

Jon pulled his head back and gasped in wonder. “Really? I’m a father?” Sansa giggled and stood, moving to undress and take down her hair quickly. She returned to Jon, who had started crying again.

“I’m just so happy!” he blubbered. “You’re so beautiful, and you’re my wife! And we have children!” Sansa cooed at him as she helped him undress, and pushed him onto his back. She crawled beneath the covers and tucked him in, snuggling up to his side. He finally stopped crying, and looked down at her. “Are we going to lie together now, beautiful lady?”

Sansa grinned at him. “Not tonight, sweet husband. You’re going to get some rest, and I’ll watch over you.” She kissed him again gently, and stroked his hair until her sweet, drunk husband fell into a deep sleep.


End file.
